


Dormez-vous?

by lessix (scrxamitout)



Series: lullabies and apartments [1]
Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/F, Kid Fic, Pre-Relationship, fluff??, this is so short it doesn't deserve tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23395933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrxamitout/pseuds/lessix
Summary: Catherine Parr loved her apartment.That was, until the new neighbour moved next door.orneighbours parrlyn au!
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Catherine Parr
Series: lullabies and apartments [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778410
Comments: 7
Kudos: 99





	Dormez-vous?

**Author's Note:**

> me? posting twice in a week? unheard of!  
> anyway, the title comes from "Frère Jacques".  
> this is beta'ed by Lexi who did like 120 changes so I can't thank her enough!

Catherine Parr loved her apartment.

It was a two bedroom one, even though she remodelled the smaller one to make an office. It had a nice view of the street, and she liked taking her morning –or afternoon– coffee with the shining sunlight that came in from the window in the kitchen. Already in her late twenties, she conserved only her favourite teenage posters into a wall full of portraits and photographs that held memories of her whole life.

After the chaotic university years, she settled well. Being a freelance writer paid off well when your family already had money to start with, which gave her a peaceful, comfortable life. Her daily routine consists of various activities, like doing yoga and staying up late just for the sake of finishing the latest article or chapter of whatever she was working on.

That was, until the new neighbour moved next door.

Don’t get her wrong, changes were obviously never greeted with open arms, but she was also conscious that variation was good. It was the only way to evolution, into something better. Nonetheless, this modification was definitely not an upgrade.

Instead of having her night bath with Hozier’s latest song, she took a quick shower to the sound of a baby crying. It would’ve been upsetting to say the least, but when she went to bed and the baby kept their pace it became infuriating. The poor child seemed to be relentless, and it took at least two hours to calm them down.

Catherine woke up to the baby crying again.

Just. Great.

It wasn’t exactly early, but she always preferred to sleep until she woke up naturally. Not having a job schedule meant that she could organize her days however she wanted. Still, she tried to pull through. Making her coffee meant that the kitchen was on the other side of the house, making the baby’s crying barely a whisper she could easily hide with her music.

The notification of her godmother calling showed up on the screen of her phone, which she quickly picked up.

“Hello,  _ madrina _ .” Cathy said simply.

“ _ Hola, hermosa _ .” Catherine of Aragon congratulated on the phone. “I thought you were not going to answer that fast, why are you awake? Aren’t you more of a night owl?”

“I am, but apparently the baby next door isn’t.” She explains, moving towards the window.

“The baby? Did Anna have a baby?” Her godmother questions.

“No, remember that she moved like two weeks ago.” Parr reminds her. “Apparently the new neighbours have a baby. They cried last night and this morning, and you know that these walls are kind of  _ thin _ .”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Aragon advises.

(…)

Luckily for Catherine, the baby does not cry that night. Nor the next. But the third night they won’t stop. It was nowhere near the amount of crying from the first evening, but somehow this time it’s worse. The screaming cries of pain almost haunt Parr.

So, she decides to take the next step, to go and confront her new neighbours, whoever they are.

She wraps herself in her blue coat, hiding her silk baby blue pyjama shorts and shirt. Deciding against wearing flip flops she slips in the first pair of sneakers she can find, and grabbing her keys it doesn’t take long for her to be out of the apartment.

The apartment next door used to belong to Anna of Cleves. She was in her mid-twenties, and had grown quite close to Catherine in the last few years. Sadly, she decided to take a job at a Russian magazine as a photographer not long ago, which meant she moved to a new country and left Catherine with this crying baby.

She knocks the door twice, and not long after a scream comes through.

“Coming!”

The entrance opens, revealing a woman that can’t be older than thirty. Her skin is pale, almost like marble, and her tired eyes are dark with green highlights within them. She holds a baby in her arms that can’t be more than a month or two old. The baby is dressed in a pink and red sleepsuit.

“Hi.” The woman says. “I’m Anne, and this is Elizabeth.”

“I’m Catherine, your next-door neighbour.” She states. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.” Anne smiles.

She is pretty, just to say the least. Even with how exhausted she seems to be, her features are just attractive. Catherine for a second forgets what she was meant to do. Then the baby starts crying again, and she remembers.

“I’m sorry.” The mother speaks. “Did she wake you up? I’m just, I’m sorry. She has been fussy all week, I took her to the doctor’s office, but nothing helped. And I don’t know why I am telling you this. Sorry.”

Catherine thinks about complaining, telling her that the baby woke her up, but decides against it, instead giving an empathetic smile.

“No problem, babies are sometimes like that.”

“You have kids?” Anne asks, intrigued.

“No, but I used to babysit a lot for my godmother. Her daughter wouldn’t stop crying for hours at a time, but on top of that she was a very mean kid.”

“Would you like some tea?” Boleyn offers. “It’s the least I can do for waking you up.”

Catherine nods slowly, still not sure if she wants to. Of course, she would prefer to be in her bed now, reading some articles or watching Ted Talks, but at the same time the warm feeling of the other woman’s apartment is appealing. It was also a plus that the other woman just looked also extremely sweet, and if they were going to be neighbours the least she could do was try to have a good relationship.

Anne lets her in, and the house does not look like when Anna lived there. The walls that were barely painted, just showing the bricks were now painted a yellowish beige colour, making it seem brighter. The dark wood furniture was still the same, but now there were a lot of pillows in different colours scattered about them. She sits on a sofa she had never seen before, probably having been brought by the new owner.

“Is your partner home?” Parr wonders, trying to get more information over the sound of the crying baby.

“I’m single, actually.” The other says easily.

“Sorry.” Cathy quickly apologizes.

“No, don’t worry, it’s normal to assume that having an infant would mean that.” Anne explains. “I will try to put her down in the bouncer over there and start making the tea.”

“Would you like some help?” Parr offers.

“Can you keep an eye on her? Just in case,” she suggests, “it’s not like she can do a lot, but it will give me a peace of mind.”

“Yes, no problem.”

Anne settles the baby into the baby bouncer, making sure that she is secure, before moving on to the kitchen. The baby starts crying even harder than before, which Catherine didn’t think was possible. She can’t believe how loud such a tiny thing can be.

“No baby, don’t cry.” She says, letting herself fall on her knees, in front of Elizabeth. “Would you like a song?”

Her voice is steady, not too noisy. Catherine hasn’t sung in so long, but still the words come out instantly, an echo of a familiar voice trying to calm her when she was little. It comes naturally, and for a moment she does not worry about the chance that Anne could hear such an embarrassing scene. It becomes easier when the baby starts relaxing, reducing her pained howls to just a soft wailing.

“That was Spanish, right?” The mother asks, offering the cup of tea.

“Did I just start singing in another language?” She returns, self-conscious. “But yes, I supposed it must’ve been.”

“I knew that song, but in French. Used to sing it for her when I was pregnant.” Anne tells. “I don’t know why it hasn't crossed my mind.”

“You are probably just tired.” Catherine tries to calm her. “She is beautiful.”

“Mostly when she is almost asleep.” Boleyn laughs.

She slowly walks to the bouncer, where Elizabeth is almost closing her eyes. She takes the baby in her arms. It’s such a nice, familiar scene that for a moment Catherine feels like an outsider, but the way Anne looks at her is friendly, inviting. It might not be her home, but she still felt welcomed.

“She started doing this last week, before falling asleep she smiles. No matter how much she cried that night,” she shows the face of her daughter, “she always smiles.”

“Like the rainbow after the storm.”

“That is such a sweet way to say it, honestly.” Anne admits. “It gives me hope that everything is going to be okay, she gives me hope.”

There’s a sadness on her voice that Catherine only ever hears in her mind when thinking about a character. It’s unnatural, a sweet kind of melancholy that doesn’t hurt, but instead is confident. A sorrow full of promises, of something good to come.

“How did you end up here?” Catherine wonders, trying to bring back the conversation to something less serious.

“My cousin Kitty is friends with the owner, Anna, you might know her?” Parr nods. “Kit texted her and she offered the apartment, it was really sweet from her to do it all in such a short notice.”

“Yes, Anna is always helping,” Catherine agrees, “we actually met because I hurt my ankle while getting some wine, like I just tripped. My godmother, she is the closest person I have, was in Spain, and my sister nowhere to be found. I went to Anna’s and knocked on the door; she opened it and took me to the hospital. We ended up back at her apartment, I had to wear a cast for a week, and we had wine every night. I haven’t heard the last of it yet, the other day she texted me this:”

She makes a pause, getting her phone out from the pocket in her coat. Going through the chats she opens Anna’s, showing a photo of the woman with a glass of wine, and a caption saying “once again, I succeeded where others failed”. Anne laughs quietly, while shifting Elizabeth's position in her arms.

“I definitely am not as close to her,” she explains, “but my cousin is. I don’t think she has any story with Anna that can be told without saying something illegal.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” Parr laughs.

“Also, your godmother was in Spain? Is that related to  _ Frère Jacques _ in Spanish?”

“Yes.” Catherine tells, holding a breath. “She sang to me a lot and took care of me after my father died. She is from Madrid, so all the lullabies and children’s songs she knew were in Spanish.”

“I used to live in France, I came back when I was a teenager. My nanny used to sing it for us, and taught me that song on the piano. My younger brother would always mix it up, and my older sister didn’t care as much to learn.” Anne voices. “It was great to hear it, plus you have a beautiful voice.”

Parr feels her cheeks growing red, but decides to not let it show. Instead, she takes a sip of her tea and says: “This is embarrassing.”

“It shouldn’t be, you have a great voice!” The other woman smiles. “You calmed her down, which is more than what I’ve been able to do in weeks. It’s just she has been so fussy, I’m worried.”

“You told me you went to the doctor, right?”

“Yes, apparently is nothing to worry about, maybe a stomach bug,” she explains, “but I hate to see her having a bad moment. If I could just take away all the pain and all the bad things from the world for her, I would.”

After that, they try to fall back into small talk, which results in a difficult task when midnight passed hours ago. The tea goes cold, but still they finish it. Boleyn shows Parr how she had redecorated the apartment, the pink walls in the baby room, the new bed, photos of scans and first weeks of Elizabeth. Catherine forgets the anger directed at the baby next door who wouldn’t stop crying. They decide to part ways after an hour of continuous talk.

“Thank you for inviting me, honestly I was coming here to lash out because I couldn’t sleep.” The writer admits.

“I thought so, but I’m glad you didn’t.”

Anne's eyes are stunning, sparkling under the artificial light of the corridor. The sight of her is breathtaking, and Catherine can’t imagine just fighting with her. Maybe it was because of the late time and lack of sleep, but she felt enamoured with the idea of spending more nights, singing  _ Frey Santiago _ and a hundred other songs, in any of the languages she knows. It feels natural, at ease.

“I hope this is not the last time we talk.”

“I feel the same.” Anne replies, with a shy smile crossing through her lips. “Maybe you can come to sing lullabies tomorrow, just earlier this time.”

“Only over a cup of tea.” Parr laughs.

“ _ Bonne nuit _ , Catherine.”

“ _ Buenas noches,  _ Anne.”

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact! frey santiago/frere jacques/brother john or however you know the song was the first song I learned on piano, and I learned it in spanish, while my mum knew it in french (I really don't know why, but she did!)  
> as always, comments and kudos are really appreciated! plus, come say hi on my tumblr (lessix)!  
> if you want some specific fanfic to be post, please tell me, I currently have two ongoing ones but if you want one published before or a specific queen, just tell me.


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